


Part 1: The Breefing

by MarmeLady_Orange



Series: THE INTERVENTION [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: But the angels are back, Dead people are still dead, God can do what He wants, It'll be funnier when it gets to the next parts, M/M, Season/Series 09 Spoilers, Series Spoilers, Swearing, Trying again to write something silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarmeLady_Orange/pseuds/MarmeLady_Orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breakfast is served. Sitting at the table are angels, demons, a horseman and humans both dead and alive. All brought together by a God with a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part 1: The Breefing

**Author's Note:**

> I have two (very different) ideas in mind right now. Decided to go with this one first as it is quite lighter than the other one. In spirit anyways... As for length, I'm not sure yet.
> 
> I will try REAL HARD to keep the "parts" as short as possible (you might understand why when you read this first part). I do have trouble keeping my stories brief, so this here is my personal challenge. (which I already lost with that first part... let's not count that one, shall we?)
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it... I'll do my best to update on a regular basis.
> 
> ___________________________________________________________

The room is large, every wall painted white. Not a soft eggshell sort of white but a bright, clinical white. Add in the natural glow coming in from the huge windows that take most of the south wall, barely covered with light white veil-like curtains, and you wouldn’t care looking like a douchebag wearing your sunglasses indoors it’s so bright.

The walls are adorned with the faintest touches of colours, white frames with blown-up pictures of ivory lilies that seem to have been printed while running low on ink. Then there’s the huge oval marble table in the middle, circled by several comfy armchairs upholstered in, you guessed it, creamy white leather.

And of course there’s the floor. If a nice rich mahogany flooring could have been oh so wonderful, someone obviously decided that carpet was better. Shaggy carpet, alabaster shaded, all fluffy, soft and thick. If walking on a cloud was at all possible, the feeling would probably be close to what can be felt on that floor right there.

That’s the conference room, designed by the boss himself. Right now, it can sit up to 20 people. But it could very well sit 100 if the boss ever felt like it. It’s just that right now, 20 is more than enough.

In the middle of the table are plates of pastries, cold cuts, breads, cheeses and fruits, jugs of fresh juice and pots of hot coffee. Everything is ready and the guests will be there soon. At one end of the table, the boss is sitting, drumming his fingers on the cold stone surface. In front of him, a coffee (black, 2 sugars), a strawberry danish and a sheet of paper.

It’s a yellow sheet of paper (not white), like the ones with printed lines that come in a pad. On the sheet, a list in sloppy blue pen writings. They’re names, with some of them crossed out, some others wrote down elsewhere, and some of those crossed out again. It’s a very messy list.

The bearded man takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He has to do this now, he can’t put it off any longer. In his head, a countdown. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… he snaps his fingers.

Let’s get this party started!

 

• • • • • • • •

 

When Chuck Shurley opens his eyes, he sees all the people from the list sitting in front of him, all with different expressions, going from surprised, scared, annoyed or even pissed. But then they look around and their features, for the most of them, start getting emotional when they see who’s there with them.

GABRIEL (ARCHANGEL): “What the hell, Pops?”

SAM WINCHESTER: “Yeah, Chuck!  What the hell… wait!  What? Pops?”

GABRIEL: “Samsquatch, please meet my Father… God!”

There’s a general gasp in the room. And a couple of sniggers. And a very annoyed huff.

DEATH (HORSEMAN): “What am I doing here?”

CHUCK SHURLEY (GOD): “I’ll explain later, for now let’s just…”

BECKY ROSEN: “Chuck? You… you… but… and I…”

There’s a muffled thump when Becky’s body falls on the floor. Thanks to the lush carpet (he knew it was a good idea), she would certainly not be injured and could stay down there and be comfortable.

CROWLEY (KING OF HELL): “Well, well, well… So _you’re_ God. I’m disappointed, to be honest. You look rather ordinary. You should dress for the part mate.”

CHUCK: Ahem… Alright, people, dig in, eat and drink. I know some of you haven’t seen each other for a very long time, some have not met yet. We’ll discuss why I brought you here a bit later.

DEATH: “I think I would rather go, old friend.”

CHUCK: “You don’t even know what this is about.”

DEATH: “I’m certain I do. And I honestly don’t care.”

The Horseman walks up to God and whispers something in his ear. Chuck’s shoulders slump in defeat and he waves a hand towards the door.

CHUCK: “Fine, go! Thought you would have liked to help.”

DEATH: “And I thought you knew me better than that. Call me again when you have something interesting in mind. Like pizza…”

And Death is gone. Seeing this, Crowley snaps his finger in order to leave as well but nothing happens. He seems to be stuck.

CHUCK: “You, you stay. Until I tell you what I need, nobody else leaves.”

MEG MASTERS: “Yeah well, that’s kidnapping. Some God you are.”

SAM / JO HARVELLE / ELLEN HARVELLE: “Shut up, Meg!”

MEG: “Oh yeah? Make me?”

Jo jumps from her chair onto the table to access the demon. She would feel a lot better if she could at least try and dig her nails in the bitch’s black eyes. After all, she killed both her and her mom.

Meg jumps out of her own chair and moves to shield herself with the man sitting two chairs to her right.

MEG: “Castiel, please help me!”

JIMMY NOVAK: “Sorry, Jimmy Novak, not Castiel.”

MEG: “So? You can still help, no?”

JIMMY: “I… I don’t… I guess!”

He places himself in front of Meg so Jo can’t reach her.

SAM: “She’s a demon, Jimmy. And she’s the reason Jo and her mom are dead.”

MEG: “Sammy boy, making a new friend here. And he’s a pretty one, too! So shut the fuck up!”

JO: “Jimmy, is it? Please step aside.”

ELLEN: "Jo, would you stop it? We’re dead, it won’t make us come back.”

MEG: “Now that I think of it, I’m dead too. It’s not like you can kill me again.”

Meg steps out from behind Jimmy and stands next to him, her hands on her hips.

JO: “Maybe I could hurt you though. I would really love to try.”

CHUCK: “Please kids, would you just sit and enjoy breakfast?”

KEVIN TRAN: “Can somebody explain what the hell is happening? Sam kills me and then I see my mom for like two seconds and now I’m here and now Sam’s there again and also Crowley and dead people I don’t even fucking know and what. Is. Happening!?”

The prophet starts panicking, breathing heavy, and God considers for a second conjuring a brown paper bag to try and help. But he gets a better idea.

CHUCK: “hum… Sam?”

Sam receives a mental image of himself slapping Kevin and understands. So he does, he slaps Kevin, but only because God commanded it. And Kevin’s breath stops short, he brings his hand to his face and his eyes grow wide (well, at least he’s got eyes now, Sam thinks).

KEVIN: “Sam? Really? Killing me wasn’t enough, you have to beat me up on top of it?”

Sam doesn’t answer but points to Chuck as to say that it was his fault. Because, it really was. But he can’t really dwell on it because he soon feels two sets of arms surrounding him. Both strong but one much more delicate than the other, and both smelling like home so much it makes him cry. Mom, and dad.

MARY WINCHESTER: “Oh Sam, my baby, couldn’t wait to finally see you.”

JOHN WINCHESTER: “Son, I missed you.”

And they’re all crying, and others in the room are crying too even though they’re doing their best to hide it. Suddenly, there’s a third set of arms encircling them.

BOBBY SINGER: “Friggin’ idjits!”

Well that’s uncalled for, Sam thinks, but he takes it anyways and brings an arm around his surrogate father. He doesn’t want to let any of them go, but there’s also Ellen he wants to see, and Jo, and Pamela. It’s a big hug fest and Dean would throw a bitch fit if he was here and…

SAM: “Hey! Where’s Dean? And where’s Cas? They seem to be the only ones missing.”

CHUCK: “You guys are unbelievable… eat your fucking breakfast, would you? Enough with the questions, now’s not the time!”

God sighs loudly and conjures up a gold (silver could have been nice) mp3 player, puts on the earplugs and presses play. Some undescript beat is coming from God’s earplugs but nobody can make out the songs. What is certain is that he’s had enough of them all for now.

Very soon, the people in the room separate in small groups, with Sam pretty much being the one to be making the introductions since he knows everyone. Everybody’s talking, munching on the amazing food and sipping on juice and coffee.

The biggest group is the _family_ , which of course doesn’t end with blood. But it does have two subgroups, the old and the young. There’s the first group with Mary, John, Bobby, Ellen and Jody. The other one includes Kevin, Charlie, Jo, Pamela and Sam (when he’s not _entertaining_ ).

Of course, Meg has taken a liking to Jimmy so she doesn’t leave his side, which makes him really uncomfortable. He tries his very best to ditch her and wants to seek the company of the angels Gabriel and Balthazar. Balthazar is not very keen on the idea, seeing as his assassin had that very same face.

Crowley tries to mingle, going from group to group and does his very best to annoy everyone present. Bela Talbot does the same, mingling with everyone, but is mostly in an observant mode.

CHUCK: “Ok, I think we’re enough caught up, time for business. Sit! Oh, and can someone try and wake up Becky?”

All the food and plates disappear from the table, leaving only the glasses, mugs and everything they could drink. Also appears, in front of each person, a pad of yellow lined paper and a beautiful golden fountain pen.

While Balthazar is trying to bring God’s ex-girlfriend out of her shocked slumber, the rest of the assembly is growing more and more impatient, in a respectful this-is-God-so-he-could-still-smite-me manner.

GABRIEL: “So, wanna tell us what’s going on?”

BECKY: “Oh my Gaaah… I just… I can’t… Chuck? Are we? Am I…”

Chuck flicks his wrist at the girl and groans after she has disappeared from the room.

CHUCK: “Well, that was a bad idea.”

He chuckles, but nobody seems to find it funny and instead everybody’s watching him expectantly.

CHUCK: “Fine! So, first off, good morning to all! Some of you know me as God, or Dad. Some know me as Chuck Shurley, the prophet. Others as Carver Edlund, author of the _Supernatural_ series. Some of you don’t know me at all, but I guess you will have heard of me one way or another.”

Chuck takes a minute to scan around the room. Most of the faces he is confronted with are in awe and frankly, that makes him uncomfortable. He did choose that vessel because he thought he’d be less intimidating. Or so he thought…

CHUCK: “The reason you’re all here is because we need to stage an intervention, and we need to brainstorm. As Sam pointed out earlier, you will notice that neither Dean Winchester nor Castiel are present. That’s because this is about them.”

Now, the faces are less in awe, more confused.

CHUCK: “You guys know what I’m talking about, right?”

If there were flies, they would probably be heard buzzing around. But of course, this is God’s conference room and there are no lost insects roaming about.

BOBBY: “What did the morons do now?”

CHUCK: “Nothing. That’s the problem.”

CHARLIE BRADBURY: “Are you saying…?”

SAM: “What?”

CHARLIE: “Sam, what do you complain about all the time?”

SAM: “I don’t compl… oh! Nah! It can’t be about that.”

CROWLEY: “Care to share with the rest of the class?”

MEG: “I bet I know.”

JOHN: “Who’s Castiel?”

MARY: “John, I told you. He’s that angel, the one who pulled Dean from hell.”

JOHN: “Oh, yeah! So? What about them?”

MARY: “I swear, if you weren’t already dead, I’d think you were becoming senile. I told you about this already. How they seemed to be getting… close?”

JOHN: “Come on Mary, I’m not senile, it’s just that I know my son. And he’s not gay!”

CHARLIE: “And what if he was? Even if only for Cas? What if he’s bi?”

BELA TALBOT: “Do I really need to be here? I don’t even know that Castiel guy.”

CHUCK: “Everyone hush. So yes, this is what this meeting is about. It’s about how Dean and Castiel need to act on their feelings once and for all so the story can finally go forth.”

SAM: “The story?”

CHUCK: “Story, history, fate, call it what you will. But until they get together, the events to come are stalled. Plus, the tension is really getting on my nerves, I can’t handle it anymore and I don’t even live with them.”

SAM: “It is heavy, I'll give you that.”

CHUCK: “I did try to send them some hints over time, nudge them in the right direction but they’re both too… I can’t even find the words… Me… God… I can’t find words! They are exasperating.”

JOHN: “Maybe it’s because they’re just not _gay_!”

MARY: “John, would you leave it alone? Who cares, really?”

CHUCK: “John, I know where you’re coming from but you know what? I, as God, don’t care about who loves who. Consenting adults can love each other in every which way they want. Most importantly, your son and my son, they were destined for each other from the dawn of time. I just never expected they would be so broken, or blind, to embrace it when they’d finally meet.”

JOHN: “But…”

Mary swats her husband on the arm and glares at him, challenging him to go on with his thought. Which, thankfully, he does not.

CHUCK: “So, I’ve called you all so we can try and find new ideas to make them realise they belong together. And no, sending either of them to hell is not an option.”

Crowley brings down the hand he had raised to talk, mumbling under his breath.

CHUCK: “Bela, if you wouldn’t mind giving back Balthazar his angel sword so we can start working…”

Bela gives God a somewhat sheepish smile and hands the sword to the confused angel next to her.

BELA: “No fun… and why do I even need to be here, I don’t even know that Castiel guy?”

CHUCK: “You know Dean, and you’re pretty tricky…”

GABRIEL: “Hey! That’s my schtick.”

BELA: “Yeah, but I really don’t care. Unless there’s something in it for me.”

CHUCK: “Wow… It’s impressive how _God_ doesn’t seem to be inducing fear anymore.”

BELA: “Did you see you?”

GABRIEL: “Be very careful missy, this is still God you’re talking to…”

CHUCK: “Gabriel, it’s fine, leave it! Any others feel like Bela, that they shouldn’t be here? Raise your hand if that’s the case.”

He’s not surprised to see Bela’s hand come up immediately. But then John Winchester follows, as do Pamela Barnes, Balthazar, Meg, Kevin and Bobby.

CHUCK: “I didn’t think so many of you would be against the idea.”

BOBBY: “I love the boys, but I’ll let the kids handle this one. I’d rather watch the parade than be in it.”

BALTHAZAR (ANGEL): “Well, Father, your little Castiel there was the one to kill me. Not feeling the love right now.”

CHUCK: “How about forgiveness?”

BALTHAZAR: “You resuscitated me and the little bugger’s still alive, that should be enough on my part.”

PAMELA BARNES: “I feel you, gorgeous! That guy burned my eyes out. They’re good now, but you know, I’m dead and all. Still a bit resentful about the whole thing I guess.”

KEVIN: “Speaking of eyes… I just died myself, I’d like to just go do that. Be dead, you know? Not feeling the Winchester love either.”

SAM: “I’m so sorry Kev. It wasn’t really me, but I’m still very sorry.”

KEVIN: “I know. Still don’t wanna help your brother though.”

MEG: “Seems like a lot of work…”

SAM: “Of course you won’t help Meg, you’ve got a crush on Cas.”

MEG: “Come on!  And even if I did… Shut up! I so don’t care!”

And for the first time probably ever, there’s a demon furiously blushing. God himself had never seen such a thing and he’s very confused. Should he try and “undemonize” Meg? Make her human again so she’d have a second chance? He’d think about that later, when his other “problem” would be taken care of.

MARY: “John? You’re standing your ground? You won’t help your kid?”

JOHN: “Not with this. It’s not something… It’s not important.”

GABRIEL: “Says who?”

JOHN: “I say. This is not life or death. They should be hunting, not fffuuh… whatever!”

For the first time since the start of the reunion, God is clearly upset. He gets up and bangs his fists on the marble, hard enough to crack the table, his vessel’s blue eyes shining gold with power.

CHUCK: “John Winchester, you are an ignorant ass, you know nothing. If I say this needs to happen, then it needs to happen, got it?”

JOHN: “I get it… but… but I… I still won’t... help.”

The old hunter is clearly impressed with God’s display of power, his voice less assertive and so low that it’s hard to hear him. Annoyed, Chuck flicks his wrists and sends aways all of those who had signified they didn’t want to help. He takes a deep breath and is calm once again.

CHUCK: “Ok. Those of you still here, we’re all on the same page? We want our boys to have a fairytale ending?”

An equal mix of yeses and laughs answer his question and it satisfies him.

CHUCK: “Good. So, I thought that instead of a classic brainstorm, we could do more like an… essay thingy? Each of you will write down their best idea and then we’ll go with the best of them, or all of them, see how it goes.”

CHARLIE: “You want us to write fanfiction?”

CHUCK: “No, not really. I want you to think of ways Dean and Castiel could be together and write it down.”

CHARLIE / SAM: “Fanfiction!”

JODY MILLS: “What’s fanfiction?”

CHARLIE: “It’s when you take existing fictional characters, from a movie or a tv show per example, and write stories about them.”

CHUCK: “Ha! Fictional! Dean and Castiel are real so it doesn’t apply.”

CHARLIE: "Well, you can also write fanfiction about real people, it’s called RPF… so yeah, God wants us to write fanfiction.”

MARY: “So, we just write down our idea and it will come true?”

CHUCK: “Well… it might. I’ll see what you guys come up with.”

JO: “I didn’t think we’d be doing school work.”

CHARLIE: “It’s fun school work. I’m Charlie by the way.”

JO: “I know who you are… and school work’s never fun!”

ELLEN: “I don’t know how to do this.”

CHUCK: “That’s why I’m really disappointed that Becky took my being God so hard. She’s an avid fanfiction writer.”

CHARLIE: “Really? What about?”

Sam groans and lets his forehead fall on the table. He’s hoping Chuck will be discreet about this.

CHUCK: “Sam and Dean.”

CHARLIE: “Oh yeah, I’ve seen those. Sorry Sam, I swear I haven’t read them. Well, I haven’t finished one, really… if I have to be totally honest.”

SAM: “Please don’t…”

MARY: “What about Sam and Dean? There are people writing stories about them?”

SAM: “Don’t worry about it mom, really.”

CROWLEY: “Mrs. Winchester, your boys are the stars of pornographic stories as well as very graphic works of art. It’s all over the Internet. Aaaaand of course, you have no idea what I’m talking about…”

SAM: “Crowley, shut the hell up, will you? She’s our _mother_.”

The king of hell huffs petulantly but still smiles.

CHARLIE: “The Internet is how everyone communicates nowadays, on their computers or phones. It’s pretty global, like a web of…”

MARY: “Thank you sweetie, but I know what the Internet is, I’ve been observing what’s been going on since I left. But, hum… I have not seen what Crowley’s talking about.”

CHARLIE: “It’s better if you don’t.”

CROWLEY: “Homoerotic writings and drawings of your sons. Together. As a couple. Doing the nasty.”

SAM: “Crowley! Dammit!”

The scottish demon is very proud of himself. He observes with glee the shocked and embarrassed expressions on the two Winchesters.

MARY: “Oh… well… that’s… hum…”

But then she starts laughing, which throws pretty much everyone off. Of all the reactions they were expecting (hoping) for, hilarity was not one of them. And certainly not to the extent of tears. Others start joining in and soon, the whole room is echoing with laughter.

CHUCK: “Ok, ok… hee hee hee… are we good now? Do we all understand what… ha ha ha ha ha… what needs to be done?”

God wipes his face, trying to calm down. The whole room agrees between fits of dying laughter.

CHUCK: “hu hu hummm… ok. Good… haaaa… So, you don’t really have a dieline but try not to take too long, alright? I’ll be back later.”

Just like that, God poofs out of the room, leaving his remaining _guests_ alone to work on their ideas.

MARY: “Just so everyone knows, I will not write an erotic story about my son.”

SAM: “They don’t have to be erotic, mom. Actually, I would personally prefer if they weren’t.”

CROWLEY: “What’s the fun in that, Moose?”

JODY: “You guys think we should try to share ideas? I know that’s not what…”

GABRIEL: “God asked for each and everyone’s personal idea, not a group one.”

SAM: “We can still talk about it. Since when are you so uptight about the rules?”

JIMMY: “Shit! I kind of just realised I have to find a way for Dean to have sex with me. Well, my body.”

SAM: “Sorry Jimmy, but you’re dead, you shouldn’t care, right?”

JIMMY: “Yeah, well… It’s still me, sort of… it’s very weird to think about. I’m a christian man, a family man.”

SAM: “Was…”

GABRIEL: “You heard the G-man earlier, it’s not an issue and it never was, so stop worrying about it, would you?”

CHARLIE: “Guys, could you just keep it down? That’s not helping the creative juices to flow.”

JODY: “How does one…”

ELLEN: “I don’t know Jody, just close your eyes and think of your favorite movie and write the plot while adapting it for Dean and Castiel. As long as there’s a love story…”

JODY: “I do love the movie _Speed_ …”

ELLEN: “There you go. Write about that one.”

JODY: “I like that idea, thank you Ellen.”

Ellen smiles and turns back to her own paper pad. _Speed_ is actually a nice idea, she’s a bit jealous. Or maybe not… When would they ever be on a bus? Not everyone can be a writer, she knows she certainly isn’t one herself. She looks around and sees that everybody’s just like her, thinking, observing, doodling. Only Jody seems to have found her idea, thanks to Ellen.

Well, Ellen could do the movie thingy as well. She just can’t take the same one, obviously. Or she can go with a TV Show. Nah, a movie’s more expeditive in the plot. They don’t need this to take forever, it appears to have taken long enough already. Jo’s right when she says that it’s like doing school work. And it does suck.

 

 

• • • • • • • •

  


From somewhere neither close nor far, Chuck is observing the group of people in the white room, all in deep concentration or already writing on their yellow pads.

He is pretty satisfied that there are still 9 people in the room, afraid at first that he’d end up with no more than 3 or 4. Humans, and demons apparently, are still able to surprise him and that makes him very happy.

And if Crowley just wants to have some fun and stayed around to do so, God's ok with that. He doesn’t have to humour him, but he’s very curious to see what the king of hell might come up with.

He is surprised to see that Jimmy Novak stayed as well, even though he seems now to be regretting it. But he’s not bitching about it, he’s doing as requested and that’s to be expected. He always was a good christian, as well as a devout and willing vessel.

And Gabriel, his dearest child, has also stayed to help. The archangel with the biggest heart, so loving of his family that he had decided to flee rather than face his brothers torturing each other. Chuck should be mad at him for abandoning heaven for so long, but he can’t. That would be very hypocritical since he had himself been missing for a long time.

Chuck sees in the white room a winning team, what are mostly (Crowley making the numbers go down) loving and sensible people. If anything can make the hunter and the angel come together, it has to be them.

If not, well… they’re all doomed!

 

**Author's Note:**

> ___________________________________________________________
> 
> I don't own ANYTHING. Not the show, not the characters...   
> but I do enjoy rolling around in them while scantily dressed.  
> ___________________________________________________________


End file.
